


together or not at all

by ballerinaroy



Series: together or not at all [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Love Confessions, Multi, Polyamory, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: An unexpected confession makes them all change course.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Series: together or not at all [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632493
Comments: 137
Kudos: 397





	1. and this is how it starts

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by this comment from penholder. ](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/277220848) Unbetaed. 

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when it had started, but lately, things had felt a bit strained between the three of them. Ron had put it down to the stress of wedding planning and moving out of the flat the three of them had shared ever since Hermione had left Hogwarts. And it hadn’t been their normal fighting, rather, there’d been no fighting at all. Just this uncomfortable feeling whenever the three of them alone, one that Ron had never known and therefore hadn’t known how to address.

“Don’t worry about if you leave something behind,” Harry said as Ron walked through for a final time, looking for whatever they’d missed. “You can always come back.”

“Yeah, but don’t want to feel like we’re using the flat as a holding space,” Ron said, glad that Harry had been so understanding.

In fact he’d been great about it all. Helped them look for a new place, given them more than half of the furniture. They’d largely financed the wedding themselves, not wanting to impose on the families who’d already given them so much. Not having to worry about where they were going to eat their next meal had been more helpful than Harry could have known.

“It’s no problem,” Harry said, “You’re welcome to visit anytime you want.”

And there it was, that inkling that something was off.

“You’re the only one of the three of us that can cook anyway, believe me, you won’t even know to miss us,” Ron said, picking up the hallway mirror that Hermione had sent him to retrieve. Harry grinned, but there was something about it that didn’t meet his eye. “Well, we shouldn’t be bothering you again, not until we get back anyway.”

Harry nodded. “You heading over to the Burrow?”

“Just as soon as I get this hung,” Ron said, making sure that it was indeed enchanted not to break before stuffing it into Hermione’s bag for safekeeping. “See you there!”

But as he disapparated away Ron couldn’t help but feel like there was still something strange to the way Harry stared after him.

Harry hadn’t shown up until dinner had already started and since then they hadn’t had a moment alone. It was only when Ron bid Hermione goodnight and went up to the attic bedroom that he found Harry, sitting unnaturally straight on his camp bed and waiting for him.

“Hey mate,” Ron said in greeting. He’d thought Harry had been out in the garden with George or perhaps gone to bed early. “I haven’t seen you all night.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked without preamble. His voice was odd and it gave Ron pause.

“About Hermione?” Ron asked managing a grin. “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And yet there was still something strained to Harry’s expression.

“Are you okay with this?”

It had never occurred to Ron to ask. Harry had always seemed so supportive of them, so happy.

“No.”

The answer stunned Harry as much as it did Ron. They stood there, staring at one another and although he’d been the one to ask, Ron was at an utter loss of what to say and he wished Hermione was there. Only she’d always been pretty callous with Harry’s emotions but she’d at least have something to say, know what to ask.

“Are you in love with Hermione?”

It was the first and only thought that made any sense. He’d always feared their relationship, took the bloody Horcrux and Hermione flinging herself at him for him to finally overcome his insecurity and to have it come back, the tonight of all nights-

“No!” Harry shouted at once. “Of course not.”

“Then, what?” Ron asked confused. “Why don’t you-?”

Harry stared at him, reminding Ron of all the times in school Hermione was not so patiently waiting for them to figure out something that was obvious to her. Ron raised his hands in a full upper body shrug and finally, just above a whisper, Harry finished.

“Not…not just Hermione.”

Harry looked away in shame, hiding his face so Ron couldn’t read it while he tried working out what it meant. _Not just Hermione?_ But how could he? What did he-?

“Are you-?” Ron braved, his brain still several steps behind. He gestured to himself.

It was as if time was in slow motion. Harry raised his head, eyes wet, swallowed heavily and gave the tiniest of nods.

“With me?” Ron finished, still pointing at his chest. “With us? When did you? How? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Again a silence that stretched on for an eternity.

“I only ever wanted you to be happy,” Harry croaked out, “I never realized, until I saw you both here, the boxes all packed and not knowing when I’d see you again….”

Ron reached out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, urging him on. Usually, Harry resisted their physical touch. Only when they were in danger or drunk did he allow hands to linger, initiate hugs and hand-holding. But now, couched in the dusty attic bedroom where they’d grown up together, Harry didn’t resist. Instead, he leaned in, wet cheek brushing Ron’s hand and continued on in a miserable voice.

“I realized that what I wanted was to be a part of that happiness too.”

“Oh Harry,” he whispered, finding his own throat suddenly aching. He pulled Harry against him on instinct, wrapping him up in his arms as Harry began to tremble. “I never knew.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry blubbered, gripping the back of Ron’s shirt fiercely. “If I could…”

But he was too overcome to finish. Instead, they gripped onto one another, holding on to one another so tightly that Ron worried that one of them would suffocate. When he opened his eyes Harry was staring at him, a strangely fierce look in his eyes and Ron braced himself to be kissed but instead was faced with the impossible question. “Do you, have you ever-?”

He didn’t know, had never considered. He was Harry, his best mate, his best friend, the person supposed to be standing next to him tomorrow as he pledged his life publicly to Hermione. It had all seemed so simple. But now, as he considered what it would be like after, coming home to a flat without Harry in it, seeing him at work and on weekends…it seemed wrong entirely to be staring a life without him in it.

“I’d never considered it,” Ron said finally, hating the disappointed look in his eye, never mind the fact that this had been a new realization too.

Harry relaxed his grip but Ron refused to let him go so they stayed tangled. Somewhere below there was the sound of a door opening and footsteps traveling down the stairs before a second door opened and shut.

“Why’d you wait so long?” Ron whispered. It wasn’t a fair question he knew. But they were running out of time, and to confess now…

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Harry whispered, “It’d always been the three of us. I was happy enough, living our lives concurrent. I didn’t realize I wanted more until I didn’t even have that.”

Guilt rushed through him. Harry had always been so supportive, he’d never questioned their friendship. But the idea that they were leaving him behind too.

“I’m sorry,” Ron whispered.

They were still tangled, faces inches from one another. The tension between them was unbearable and it was hard to say who leaned in first, who initiated for in that moment Ron wanted nothing more than to experience what it was like, to know.

It didn’t feel strange, kissing him. Ron had never considered kissing a bloke, never mind his best friend, but there was no awkwardness, nothing uncomfortable about having another man’s lips against his. In fact, there was something enticing about it, so different than kissing Hermione…Hermione.

All at once he came to his senses and pulled away, eyes wide open, leaving Harry standing there, mid-embrace. It was horrible, watching Harry realize what had happened, mistaking his horror on Ron’s face as a reaction to what he had done rather than the sudden intrusive thought of the fiancé sleeping several floors below.

“Harry, I-“

But the damage had already been done. Before Ron could stammer out an apology, an explanation, a plea for him to stay and for them to work it out, Harry had turned on the spot and vanished with an echoing pop.

Ron spent several minutes staring at the place where Harry had vanished, arms comically outstretched towards him, before coming to his senses. In love? With him? With _them_? Their lives had always been so tremulous that when the battle had ended Ron had chosen the path of least resistance and followed it. And he was happy…wasn’t he?

He knew he needed Hermione, needed to sort out the dozens of thoughts running through his head. It wasn’t until he was halfway to his sister’s room where she and Hermione were bunking that it occurred to him why exactly they were at the Burrow, banished to different rooms.

The wedding. Tomorrow. Their wedding.

“Hermione?” he whispered, knocking at the door and trying to flatten his clothes. “Hermione, I need to talk to-“

The door opened at once but it wasn’t Hermione but rather his sister who peeked out her head. “Yes?”

“I need to talk to Hermione,” Ron said stubbornly, trying to push past her.

“It’s after midnight,” Ginny pushed back against him. It was being on the side of the door that opened inward, not her strength, that caused the door not to budge. Her voice was merry and teasing, “You’ll have bad luck.”

“Ginny,” Ron said impatiently and when she gave him a stern look he called past her. “Hermione I really need to talk to you. It’s about Harry.”

From the landing, he heard the springs of her camp bed creak and suddenly she was there, still blocked by Ginny but at least in view.

“Harry?” she asked, “What’s happened?”

Ron stared back at her helplessly.

“Oh, Ginny he’s already seen me, if the wedding is spoiled then it’s spoiled.”

Ginny sighed, the cheeriness gone from her expression. “Alright then, but if mum asks I was asleep and you snuck out.”

The door opened all the way and Hermione stepped out, already in her nightwear and looked at him worriedly. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Harry he-“

But Ron struggled to find the words to explain what had just happened. Particularly when, not trying to hide it very well, he could see his sister trying to listen in. Ron grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her towards the garden.

“He’s run off,” Ron explained, needing to find him, needing for all of them to talk it out.

“Why?” Hermione whispered, wearing a determined expression at once. She didn’t resist even though she was only in slippers and he wasn’t sure she had her wand. “What’s happened?”

“He’s not okay…with us getting married.”

“What?” Hermione snapped, stopping in the middle of the kitchen. “Why?”

And it strangely felt wrong to reveal Harry’s secret but he knew that she couldn’t proceed without all the information. Ron glanced around, but being after midnight, the room was empty.

“He said that he’s in love with me,” Ron whispered. Hermione’s eyes shot open. “With us.”

Hermione looked like she’d been stunned, a completely blank expression on her face. For the first time in memory, she had nothing to say which was disappointing. He’d been counting on her coming up with the right thing, the correct solution. She was completely still aside from an occasional, automatic blink every so often before finally uttering a single, nondescript. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Ron asked, but she didn’t go on.

The silence was too much with his brain racing and he began to babble, confess. “After he told me, we kissed. And I’d never considered kissing him before but it didn’t feel strange, it was actually quite nice. And he told me about how strange it felt to watch us pack up and realize that we won’t be the three of us anymore and it got me thinking about how strange it’ll be not to be the three of us and—and Hermione I love you more than anything….but I can’t get married without Harry there.”

Again the chocking silence. Finally, Hermione was finished with her blinking and she looked at him with all sincerity and said, “Well, of course, we can’t. It’s Harry.”

Ron flooded with relief and squeezed the hand of hers he was still grasping.

“Do you love him?” she asked of him.

“I love _you_ ,” he tried but Hermione made an impatient noise.

“I know that. I know we love each other. Do you love him?”

Perhaps it was because it was the easiest answer. Or perhaps it was because he hadn’t once had second thoughts about Hermione until the moment Harry had said _no,_ but the answer spilled from him, “Of course I do, it’s Harry.”

“Alright,” Hermione said, squeezing his hand back. “We need to find him then.”

Before he could ask what it meant, ask how she felt, Hermione was now the one pulling him into the garden and away. Ron wasn’t entirely sure what Hermione was about to do but he didn’t argue with her determined march from the house. He was wrong about her not having a wand and just managed to tighten his grip before she disappeared.

“Harry!” Hermione called out the moment they arrived in the flat that the three of them had shared. Ron had been so wrapped up in moving into their new flat that he hadn’t noticed how bare they’d left it. “Harry!”

Hurriedly he followed her towards the shut door of Harry's bedroom. Hermione reached for the handle and jangled it but it remained stubbornly locked.

“Alohorma,” Ron tried as Hermione started banging on the door.

“Harry you open this door or I’ll blast it open, our security depot be damned.”

“Go away,” Harry called back.

“Harry!” Hermione answered in a dangerously low tone.

Ron held his breath for a moment and when she raised her wand actually took a few steps away. Thankfully it didn’t come down to destroying their former flat. There was a scraping sound and then the door swung open on its own.

There were no lights on and Ron could just make out a blanket-covered form on the bed.

“Harry?” Ron said gently, walking first into the room and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a very miserable voice, not raising his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said anything I shouldn’t’ve-“

“Harry,” Hermione said gently, walking forward. “It’s alright. You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Of course I should be sorry. I’ve ruined everything-“

“Nothing’s ruined,” Ron begged, reaching out a hand. But the moment he lay it on what he thought Harry’s shoulder, he curled out of his touch. “Harry, you’re right. It’s always been the three of us.” He looked over at Hermione who nodded. “We don’t want that to change either.”

Curiously he raised his head, smudged glasses emerging from underneath the red and white blanket Hermione had knitted him for Christmas the year before.

“I don't’ want to ruin your lives,” Harry said miserably.

Hermione scoffed as Ron said, “Ruin our lives? Who do you think you are, You-Know-Who?”

It did the trick. Harry finally looked up at them, his eyes bloodshot and still wet.

“We’re not getting married without you,” Hermione said in a voice that Ron knew better than to argue with.

Harry, however, was determined to be just as stubborn and replied, “Wouldn’t be very appropriate would it, being in love with you?”

Hermione’s face softened ever so slightly, a small smile on her lips. When she spoke it was kind, gentle. “Harry, please talk to us. Let us figure this out…together.”

“But you two-"

But Hermione wasn’t in the mood to argue any longer. With a determined look in her eye, she reached over and pulled his face to hers, lips crashing together. Ron checked himself for jealousy but found none. When they broke apart, Harry look too stunned for words and Ron swooped in, kissing Harry for a second time that evening and the same electric tingles rushed through his body.

They finally let one another go, panting for air and grinning at one another. Tenderly, Ron reached up, wiping the tears from Harry’s face and gently stroking his cheek.

“But… your wedding… all the people.”

“We’re not going without you,” Ron told him firmly.

“We’ll get married later, Harry, or never.” Hermione went on, smiling at them both. “But whatever it is, we’re not going to do it without you.”

“Your parents-“

“Will figure it out,” Hermione cut him off.

“Are going to hate me.” Harry finished anyway.

“No, they won’t,” Hermione said gently, Ron glanced down and found their hands had found one another. “They could never hate someone I love.”

Harry’s cheeks, already flushed with pleasure turned an even brighter pink. He looked to Ron for the same approval.

“We will probably have to pay for the wedding,” Ron said, “But they’ve always like you more than me anyway.”

He grinned, leaning over to kiss Ron’s cheek and Ron felt his own cheeks redden.

“We won’t be able to hide out here,” Hermione pointed out but that was the least of Ron’s worries.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve already got a month-long honeymoon booked,” Ron said. “Though, I suppose we’ll have to change a few reservations to three.”

It was Charlie, not used to English time, who awoke first and found the note waiting on the kitchen table.

_Sorry everyone, ran off with the bride. Enjoy the food._

_Ron._

_PS: We’ve taken the best man too._


	2. siblings know best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by this comment from Kelsey Cake ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442983/comments/277550011) [and this comment from Kitkatsuna. ](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/277471243)
> 
> ~~Possibly~~ more coming? 

The first step, Charlie supposed, was to get insight from the people who were closer to the situation. He had been away, thought it strange to get a wedding invitation so early into his youngest brother’s courtship. It wasn’t that Ron and Hermione seemed unhappy it was that the whole thing seemed rushed. When he came to visit one weekend, needing to get his dress robes fitted and missing his mother’s cooking, his youngest brother hadn’t seemed particularly enthused about the wedding either.

“Hermione taking over all the planning then?” Charlie had teased when he’d tried talking about it

“No,” Ron answered, “Mum’s been doing it mostly.”

And that wasn’t the only time Ron had seemed unexcited. Later, stopping for drinks at the flat his brother shared with his fiancé and best friend, the three of them had steered the topic away from the wedding or where they’d be moving.

“Why are you getting married then?” Charlie asked boldly when even the topic of a stag night had been tabooed.

The three of them blinked at him and then shared a long look.

“Seemed like a good idea,” Ron answered, but he didn’t look offended. “We’re in love, why not?”

Carefully, so not to wake anyone, Charlie hurried back up the stairs and to the twin's room where he and George had bunked the night before.

“Wake up,” he hissed, shaking George’s shoulder. “Get up.”

George’s eyes shot open in alarm but then, seeing that it was only him and that the sun was just barely beginning to rise, he fell back down. “Whatzit?” he slurred.

“Get up,” Charlie insisted again, yanking back the covers George was trying to burrow back under. “We have a problem.”

At that George was alert again, sitting up at last and staring at him in concern. “Problem?”

Charlie thrust the note into George’s face and he took it from him, reading over the words Charlie had already memorized. George read it then read it again but didn’t join in on Charlie’s panic. Instead, he merely rose, stretching and passing a scrap of parchment back to Charlie.

“Better get Ginny I suppose.”

“Get Ginny?” Charlie gasped. “What’s she going to do?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to be the one to pass the news on,” George said, sounding bored as he put on his housecoat and searched for his slippers. “Unless you want to be the one to wake mum and dad.”

“Mum and dad?” Charlie asked. How was George not getting it? “We need to find Ron, preferably before our parents wake up and realize that their son has skipped out on his wedding day.”

“Yes, but he’s taken the bride with him. Even if we managed to convince him back it wouldn’t be much of a wedding without her.”

“He was acting strange last night,” George offered.

They’d roused Ginny, who had acted as infuriatingly nonplussed and gathered in the kitchen, the note sitting on the table in front of him.

“Ron?” Charlie asked.

“No, Harry,” Ginny answered, “Didn’t get here until what, halfway through?”

She’d shared the story of Ron barging into the room at midnight and Hermione running off with him.

“And they didn’t say anything?” Charlie asked her for the dozenth time.

“No,” Ginny answered crossly. “Just that there was something wrong with Harry and that they needed to go. Heard them run downstairs and fell asleep before they came back.”

“You should have done something!” Charlie admonished.

“What?” Ginny asked him. “What exactly should I have done? It seems pretty obvious that they didn’t want to get married. I think they’d taken just about any excuse not to.”

Charlie stared at her, open-mouthed, but George nodded like it was the wisest thing said all morning. Finally, George took pity on him (or perhaps he was simply over Charlie’s overreactions), “Have you talked to Ron at all since they got engaged? Never seen a couple more in love less excited to talk about their big day.”

And then all of the times he’d seen Ron since they’d announced their engagement came back to him. How casual they’d been about planning, every question a deflection, when asked the answer was always “mum’s handling it” or “Hermione’s parents want-“. Nothing, it seemed, was about them. Nothing personal.

“They didn’t want to get married,” Charlie repeated and the shock of it drained from him, leaving him as unexcited as his siblings had been to the news.

“We tried telling them,” Ginny said, taking a long drink of her tea. “But everyone else was getting into their heads about it. Harry hasn’t dated since he defeated You-Know-Who so the press latched on to the closest thing to him, Ron and Hermione.”

“What about you?” Charlie asked, seeing his opening. “I heard something about the pair of you-

Ginny looked aghast. “We dated for _weeks_ three years ago. I don’t know why everyone insists on bring it up all the time. I haven’t mentioned John and _he_ was supposed to be your plus one this weekend.”

Charlie felt his face grow hot. He’d tried being casual about his relationship abruptly ending and was thankful that none of his siblings had teased him for it. “Sorry.”

“Never mind, the point is, no matter how they’ve tried avoiding it their relationship has been in the spotlight ever since it began. The people wanted this nice, fairy tale romance and Ron and Hermione just wanted to make everyone happy.”

“Mum didn’t help either.” Said, George. “She wasn’t happy they moved in together and as soon as they hit a year dating she started asking every opportunity she got. _When are you getting married, Ron? Why haven’t you proposed Ron? It’s not proper for two young people to be living together, what if you break up?”_

“But they’re so young,” Charlie argued, “And what about the Grangers?”

“I think they were just so happy to be apart of Hermione’s life they really didn’t think about the capacity,” Ginny explained. “Mrs. Grager and mum have been getting lunch once a week to plan. They’ve been so out of touch with our world, a wedding was something they could understand.”

His observations all those months ago suddenly didn’t seem so off base. It brought him comfort, knowing that they were together, taking charge of their own destiny. But there was still the lingering question-

“And what does Harry have to do with it?”

This, it seemed, George and Ginny hadn’t as openly and freely discussed. They stared at one another in a game of chicken until Ginny won out and George, in the quietest voice Charlie had ever heard from him said, “We’d been wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“About if Harry was going to say something before it was too late.”

“He still could have said something after,” George argued with her.

“Yes, but he wouldn’t have,” Ginny said with finality. “We already saw how much Harry was pulling away from them, how miserable he was. If anything he was going to start acting out and picked a fight so he’d have an excuse not to talk to them anymore.”

“You’re alright with this?” Charlie asked of his sister.

“I’m not in love with the bloke. Like I said, we dated for a few weeks several years ago. He’s belonged to Ron and Hermione long before me.”

“But, Ron,” Charlie whispered.

He supposed he shouldn’t be so shocked. In a family of seven children, the odds were against them all being strictly straight. He himself had experimented both with men and with women, neither of them calling more to him than the other. Was is really so strange that his brother might take the same path?

“Like Ginny said, they’ve always belonged to each other.” Said, George. “The timing might have been better, but at least they didn’t make any decisions they’ll regret.”


	3. cake by the ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by this comment from Natasha_Rhiannon.](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/277614319)

When she was younger Hermione had never once dreamed about her wedding. When her peers would talk about being flower girls and how they’d want their partners to propose Hermione had scoffed and gone back to her books. And she supposed she’d never really grown out of the phase where she didn’t see the appeal of a husband, of an event just for them.

But then Ron proposed. And she loved Ron. And they’d been dating for a year and a wedding was what they were supposed to want…right?

“We should just elope,” she told Ron, coming home from another dress shopping experience without having found _the one_. “Runoff and get it over with.”

“Or not get married at all,” Ron said, a strange hint of seriousness to his voice. And Hermione stared up at him, a sudden, strong tension between them. She’d been going along because he’d asked and she’d always been sure about him but to have him doubt their upcoming nuptials even a fraction of what she’d been…

Instantly Harry was at their side, looking worried. “Oh no, don’t do that. We’ve got the cake tasting tomorrow, at least don’t call it off until after that.”

And Ron had perked up and they’d laughed and the moment had been forgotten.

It felt like she was living a double life. During the day there’d be wedding planning and showers and playing dress up in wedding gowns that made her look _old_ and then she’d return home and her real-life began. Going to work and drinks, coming home to Ron and Harry at the end of the day. Sitting on the sofa together, Ron’s arm around her shoulder as they listened to the wireless on the weekends. Laughing with Harry as they cooked dinner in their tiny kitchen. In the stands drinking and cheering on her boys at their weekly pick up quidditch matches.

Wedding Hermione on Saturday mornings. Real Hermione in the afternoon when she came home to her boys just waking up to make fun of the floral arrangements with her.

But she’d gone along with it all because she was in love, she loved Ron and a wedding was the next logical step, right?

“Hermione dear, have you talked to your mother?” Molly said the moment she entered the room. “She found your great grandmother’s veil, it’s just gorgeous.” Or “We’ve narrowed down the centerpieces, are you certain you want red and gold as your colors?” 

And then there was the matter of her parents.

They’d never quite understood magic and her desire to learn it. But weddings and their planning were something they could enthusiastically embrace. It was nice having them take interest in the culture she was marrying into and Hermione was beyond happy that her mother and the mother that had taken her under her wing were getting along.

Their engagement meant popping over to the Burrow and finding her mother there, drinking tea with Molly, bridal magazines spread between them and a dozen new ideas for the ceremony that they stalled forever setting a date for.

“In the spring,” they’d begged together. “Just imagine the garden at full bloom, the grass, the breeze.”

“Next spring, perhaps,” Hermione said in the months after their engagement. The ring still felt weird and they hadn’t even had the time to properly enjoy being betrothed.

“Why not next year?” Molly asked excitedly. “Why wait?”

And Hermione hadn’t really had an answer to that.

Now, sitting on the beach at the muggle resort in the Caribbean, Hermione had plenty of answers to that very question.

What’s the hurry?

We want time with one another.

We don’t have the money to be moving out on our own.

And then, the best argument of all: We’re not ready to just be married to one another.

“Good book?” Ron asked, coming up to where she’d been sitting, watching Harry and Ron toss a frisbee back and forth along the waves.

“Something like that,” she said fondly, shaking the memory and smiling up at him.

They’d never been able to go on holiday somewhere warm. Hermione had to appreciate their choice in destination now. Laying out in the sun, fruity drinks by the pool, the men that she loved shirtless….

“Oi!” Harry called as the disk spun in their direction.

Ron glanced over just as the frisbee arrived, hitting him square in the face. It bounced off of him harmlessly and he looked more stunned than anything. Hermione’s struggled not to laugh at his expression as Harry jogged over, looking horrified.

“I’m so sorry!” Harry called. “I didn’t mean to!”

By the time Harry closed the distance Ron had already straightened, but it didn’t stop him from fussing over Ron, trying to check the damage he had done. Ron met her eye and winked, with the eye that had just been hit never the less, and began moaning.

“I know I’m the good looking one,” Ron said, covering his face with one hand that Harry tried prying away to get a better look. “I just never knew you’d try and maim me.”

Harry, finally realizing that he was being dramatic, rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Ron.

“Looks horrible,” Hermione chimed in. “I think it’s done for.”

“Yeah, might as well chop it off,” Harry agreed.

Ron sighed dramatically, “And here I thought you two loved me.”

Harry opened his mouth to no doubt tease him, but Ron cut him off by twisting in his arms and kissed him openly on the mouth. Hermione watched him grin as his glasses were pushed up by Ron’s nose. It was hardly the first time she’d watched him kiss, not even that morning, but her heart still fluttered a little every time and she found herself wishing they weren’t out in public so they might go on.

They pulled apart, Harry grinning stupidly at him, and Ron winked at her again.

“Drinks?” he asked of them and, with another peck on Harry’s lips, twisted out of his grip to gather their now empty cups.

Hermione pulled her legs toward her and crossed them, patting the empty part of the chair for Harry to sit. “Come on, it’s probably time to re-apply sunblock anyway.”

Looking a little dazed, he dropped down where her legs had been and scooted closer so she might reach his back. It was odd to think of their ‘honeymoon’ without Harry being on it. It was like they’d planned for him to be there, selected sights he’d wanted to see.

“It’s a good thing you came with us,” Hermione said, squeezing a healthy amount of the lotion onto her hands and rubbing them together. “If you hadn’t I think we might have just spent the whole trip missing you.”

Harry smiled at her from beneath his sunglasses. “Oh, I think the pair of you might have found other ways to occupy yourselves.”

“It only would have been a distraction.”

It wasn’t as if they were incapable of being without him, and Hermione was certain they would have made the most of their month away, but by now she knew they both would have been missing Harry so fiercely that they may very well have cut the trip short or else sent for him to join them.

Starting at his shoulders she began massaging the lotion into his skin, delighting in the smile she’d put on his face as much as the excuse she had to put her hands on his skin. Harry had always been so careful around them physically, so touch adverse. To now have him openly affectionate with them, unafraid to let them comfort him… it’d been a barrier Hermione hadn’t even noticed keeping them apart until it had come down.

“Good?” he asked her after several minutes of her rubbing in already dried lotion.

“Good,” she agreed, leaning forward and dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

He blushed a little as he got to his feet, going over to the second chair in their little cabana. She found herself a little disappointed he had left her, after all, they’d only been permitted the two chairs meaning one of them was always sharing, but she supposed it was out of habit more than anything for he looked a little upset with himself.

But before she could beckon him back, Ron had arrived, carrying three unnaturally blue drinks in his hands and began passing them out.

“Here we are,” he said, setting them carefully on the table between them. He sniffed the air. “Oh no, have I missed sunscreen time?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Hermione said as Ron settled himself between Harry’s open legs.

“Just sorry I missed the show,” Ron replied cheekily and Hermione couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Terrible life you have,” Harry teased, rubbing the excess from his own hands onto Ron’s shoulders and down his freckled arms.

“Terrible.” Ron sighed, laying his head back against Harry’s chest as Harry wrapped his arms around Ron’s chest.The pair smiled at one another stupidly and then turned their gaze to where they’d just been tossing the disk around, beyond it a serene view of the blue ocean, waves lapping against the blindingly white sand.

Hermione reached over for her drink without taking her eyes off of them. They looked so perfect, long limbs tangled together. As she watched, Ron began absently stroking Harry’s leg. Unlike Ron, who had done nothing more than burn and freckle during their time by the water, Harry had taken on a healthy tan, his skin seeming to glow with the rest and sun.

“Enjoying the view?” Ron asked and she looked over to find them both grinning at her mischievously.

“Mmh,” she nodded, giving up on the pretense that she had been watching them.

“Has she always been this pervy?” Harry whispered but loud enough for her to hear.

“You bring out the worst in us,” Ron replied, twisting around to kiss him.

“If this is the worst then I don’t want to know what you’re like at your best.”

Hermione watched as Ron tilted back his head father and the drink he’d gone to fetch spilled a little.

“Whoops,” Ron said upon noticing. He sat up and set the drink aside and turned around so the pair now faced one another, resuming their embrace.

She wanted to be there, closer to them be sandwiched between them. It wasn’t enough to watch with the memory of their hands on her skin, their lips crashing against hers. Quietly she stood up but they were too far gone to notice and she ducked under their arms, displacing them from one another as she climbed into the little space they had between them to small noises of protest.

“Can we help you?” Ron whispered in her ear as she settled in, pressing her back to his chest, straddling Harry’s lap.

Hermione didn’t say anything, wrapping one arm around Harry’s shoulder and used the other to reach back and tangle in Ron’s hair.

It cut off any teasing and Harry, who didn’t look upset at the new development, wrapped an arm around them and began kissing her.

“Needy witch,” Ron whispered to Harry, “Don’t know how we’ll ever satisfy her.”

Hermione didn’t see how she would ever stop wanting them either but their attempt certainly had valor. She closed her eyes, the beach and the waves a distant sound compared to the sensation of Harry’s tongue swiping across her bottom lip, Ron reaching over to tangle with Harry’s hair, them both pressed against her.

Ron’s hands, which had been running up and down her sides slipped to her hips, encouraging her to rock against them and her already compromised breath left her. She let out a little moan and felt Ron’s lips on her shoulder, pushing aside the strands of hair that had fallen out of her bun and then nipping at the tender the skin of her neck.

“Ron, the sand,” she whispered to him.

He didn’t argue, removing the tips of his fingers from underneath the band of her two-piece and traveled down the outside of her thighs and then disappeared in pursuit of Harry’s hips. Hermione felt harry buckle against her at Ron’s touch and she let out another little moan for them both.

“We should have never left the room,” Ron replied.

“Harder to get sun from between the sheets,” Hermione answered, twisting back to kiss him but at the moment she had to agree with him. They were pushing it, being out in public where anyone could see them, any staff could come over and have to ask them to stop. And not for the first time.

“Hang on,” Harry whispered, removing his hand from the mix and they were all displaced a little as he reached over, pulling the bag Hermione had brought closer and from within pulled out a wand.

His first wave caused the grittiness from the sand to disappear and the second Hermione recognized as a muggle repelling charm. He beamed at them, clearly proud of himself and Hermione lost out on the race to give him a victory kiss.

“We’ll have to remember to remove it,” Hermione whispered, kissing Harry’s cheek, but she wasn’t too concerned about it. In fact, aside from the logistics of removing their suits without separating, Hermione wasn’t concerned about anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing this. Like, so so much. 
> 
> Please leave a comment to help along the next chapter!


	4. a mother's love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by this comment from Natasha_Rhiannon.](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/277614319)

A note. Of all the ways to call off a wedding she’d never thought one of her sons, her Auror son who’d charged off to war barely of age would be such a coward as to leave a note that it was over. Well, not over. Just not the bride and the groom running off with the best man.

The spectacle of it all had been too much. It hadn’t mattered that they’d run away, the party and all of its dressings had still descended on her back garden. The flowers she’d chosen, the tents Arthur had so kindly ordered, all of that food that Ron, Harry, and Hermione had just raved about. And then the guests, unaware that the bride had run off with the groom (and the best man) had come in droves and they’d had to send them away with plates of the food they were supposed to enjoy that evening.

Molly gazed at the remains still littered throughout the home. Presents people had refused to take back, the candles meant to float about still packed in boxes.

There was a pop and Molly looked out the window but rather than the three miscreants it was only their youngest son, walking up the lane with his hands in his pockets. She resisted the urge to rush through the door, to shout at him. He’d asked for a chance to explain and frankly, she thought she deserved an explanation.

He let himself into the sitting room and it was only then that she rose to greet him. He looked good, relaxed and tan; a million freckles crowded his face just as it had when he was a boy and would disappear for hours chasing after his brothers.

“Mum,” Ron said, hugging her and then his father. “How are you?”

“Where are Hermione and Harry?” She asked, false cheeriness in her voice.

“At home,” Ron answered, sitting down in one of the three chairs that she’d positioned for them to take. All in a line, facing them. “I thought we should talk before they came.”

Molly bit her tongue, sitting beside her husband and looking at her son expectantly.

“Well?” she asked finally when he didn’t launch into an apology, an explanation for the sudden turn in events.

Ron took his time composing himself, folding his hands and then unfolding them, fussing with his rolled-up sleeve before finally meeting their eyes. “I’m sorry that we ran off so last minute and left you with everything. There was probably a better way to handle it but we weren’t quite sure how.”

Molly waited, “And?”

“And…” Ron said, searching for the right words. “And thank you for not sending a howler?”

“And what exactly happened?” she could hear her voice rising with her temper. “Are you and Hermione together? What did Harry have to do with it and what was so urgent that you couldn’t be bothered with an in-person explanation?”

Ron blinked at her looking strangely surprised. “Are Hermione and I still together? What kind of question is that?”

“A perfectly reasonable one I should think!”

“Of course we’re still together. We just weren’t ready for a wedding.”

“What went wrong then? You did it all right, your father and I were less than pleased when the two of you moved in together but you were engaged, you were going to be married the way it’s supposed to go!”

“It’s not what we wanted-“

“What do you mean it’s not what you wanted? It’s what you’re supposed to do!”

“And that’s why we did it!” Ron interrupted, his voice raised just so.

Stunned, Molly shut her mouth and stared at him.

Ron sighed, leaning forward. “Look, we thought that marriage is what we wanted because it was the normal thing to do. But, the whole thing was just a little rushed. We were just barely out of school when we started living together and then everyone was pressuring us to get engaged. We love one another and that hasn’t changed but we weren’t ready to be husband and wife.”

She couldn’t understand. They had been so in love, so excited to spend their lives together. Molly turned to her husband for back up, for him to set his son straight. “Arthur!”

He jumped a little, and then turned to Ron but when he spoke it wasn’t in anger. “Perhaps it would be helpful for you to tell us exactly what happened. You have to understand how much of a shock it was, sending you off to bed only to wake to a note.”

Ron nodded. “Harry was already in my room when I got up there. He’d been acting odd all afternoon, weeks before really, and he asked me if I was sure. I told him that I was but he still looked strange and so I asked him if he was okay with it and it slipped from him that he wasn’t that he was…” Ron paused and drew a deep breath, “He was in love with us both.”

Molly gasped. It hadn’t escaped her that Harry had been distant in the months prior but to learn that he’d been harboring such a secret.

“He ran off and I knew that I had to find him, make sure that he was alright, so I went and got Hermione and told her. All this time something has felt wrong about it, it just never occurred to us that Harry has been what’s missing.”

“Harry?” Arthur repeated without accusation.

Underneath his freckles, Ron’s skin turned pink and he nodded.

“The three of us,” he said, clearing his throat several times. “We’re, er, we’re together.”

Silence filled the room as his words washed over her again and again. All this time she’d been holding out hope that the rumors, the newspapers, even the instance of her own children-

“We weren’t aware you were interested in men,” Arthur said so calmly he might have been discussing the weather or what they might have for dinner.

“I’m not really,” answered Ron, looking relieved. “I’m just interested in Harry.”

“And Hermione?”

“Yeah, Hermione too,” Ron replied. “I never would have, not without consulting her. It just makes sense, it’s always been the three of us.”

And Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing, couldn’t fathom that Harry, the sweet boy she had welcomed into her home would sabotage his friend’s happiness. “He ruined your wedding.”

And for the very first time, Ron looked properly and completely angry. “No, this wasn’t Harry’s fault.”

“Wasn’t Harry’s fault?” She shouted back.

“He told us how he felt! That’s all he did. Hermione and I-“ he paused to let out a long frustrated sigh and lowered his voice. “There were plenty of reasons to call it off. But we didn’t and that’s on us. But when it came down to it, at the final hour, Harry was the one that made us realize that what we were doing it wasn’t for us.”

“What do you mean?” Molly spun to find her husband, not angry and red-faced like her but looking at his son with pity.

Ron’s expression shifted. He looked, again, small, trying to hide and refused to meet her eyes. “We got caught up in it, the wedding, the press, all of it. We were happy, with the way things were. But then everyone was asking us when we’re going to get engaged and the first time I stepped foot in a jewelry store I bought a ring and-“

“We didn’t want to disappoint anyone, didn’t know how to take back what we’d said without making it seem like something was wrong and it never was.” Ron looked up again and met her eyes. “You were so happy, mum. So excited and I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Molly opened her mouth to scream at him—he was an adult, capable of saying no, of arguing with her— but even as she did so her own actions seemed questionable in retrospect. She knew she hadn’t been the same, ever since the death of their son, hadn’t been the person she was before.

The war might have spared her life but stolen her brothers and her daughter’s youth, nearly taken her husband’s life, maimed half of her children, and ripped a hole inside her where Fred should have been.

Shame filled her as she thought back to all the times Hermione had hesitated, all the times Ron had tried gently to steer her away. She’d taken advantage of their happiness, the promise of a day that was wanted, a family gathering for a reason other than remembrance.

“We needed something good too,” Ron said quietly. “I think we all needed a reason to celebrate.”

Her anger had drained from her, leaving her exhausted and wanting to retreat back to her bed where she might lie alone with only her thoughts. Just as she’d done all those months after Fred’s death, allowing the grief to take over her. She’d never realized how much she’d been depending on this wedding.

“If you want to be cross with me, feel like I need punishment then that’s fine. Really, I’m an adult and I know what I did and that you love me no matter what but-“ He hesitated.

“But?”

“But you can’t take this out on Harry.”

They’d been sitting in this very room when, at twelve, Ron had come to them saying he was worried about his friend. Insisting that they need to do something or he might not ever see him again.

Molly had brushed it aside then, presumed Ron had been exaggerating the way that young children did with only half the story. It seemed impossible to her that anyone could consider not feeding a child, locking them away in a cupboard like an unwanted gift. She had been wrong then and lived every day with that knowledge.

“You’re the closest thing to parents he’s ever had.” Ron was still begging, “He’s been distraught over this whole thing and no matter how many times we tell him....he’s never had people who've loved him no matter what. He doesn’t believe me when I insist that you still will.”

But even though he spoke with conviction his face betrayed his terror that they wouldn’t. Her heart broke at the accusation. Not love Harry? From the moment she’d spotted the young child with messy hair and too large clothes she’d felt a need to protect him.

All it once it occurred to her. “You love him.”

Ron’s face shone with relief, his ears growing pink and quietly he nodded. “Yeah, I reckon I do.” 

Tears filled her eyes and she turned to her husband. 

“Of course we still love Harry,” he said in a firm voice.

Ron sighed in relief and it was all too much. Molly burst into tears, sobbing noisily into her hands while Arthur’s arm went around her and Ron scrambled out of his chair. He offered her a handkerchief with a helpless expression and she stood, gathering him into her arms.

“Not love Harry?” she sobbed loudly, “There’s nothing he could do to change that. Nothing any of you could do that would change that.”

“I know mum,” Ron said greatly, patting her on the back. “I’ll always know.”


	5. August, three years apart

All this time he’d been thinking about Ginny, about where she was or what it might be like to kiss her again, but now that she was here, that he was alive, it felt a bit….lackluster. It wasn’t easy being in her company, not effortless like the days spent out by the lake.

“It wasn’t like this?” he asked her once as they walked home from an attempt at a proper date. “At school, was it?”

They’d gone into muggle London, dressed up and he’d bought flowers but the idea had been so much better than the reality.

“No,” Ginny frowned. “It wasn’t.”

He could tell she was disappointed too and trying. But whenever they were alone it was just a lot of uncomfortable staring, long pauses they needed to fill.

Silence.

“Maybe we just need some more time,” he suggested quietly.

She stopped, a pace ahead of him and they stared at one another in the setting sun. “I think we just need to not try so hard.”

And although he wholeheartedly agreed, he found himself disappointed that it hadn’t been so simple.

“What, like, go back to being friends?”

“Yes,” Ginny said in relief. “We were good as friends, we laughed together, we had fun. And maybe, if we give it some time we can find it there.”

“Yeah,” he said numbly, “Okay.”

Ginny took pity on him, reaching over and grasping his hand. No thrill shot through him, no sense of belonging. And it was that realization that made him agree.

“Let’s not force something that’s not meant to be,” she said gently. “We waited for each other and if a little more waiting is what it takes…”

And there was nothing logical to say.

They finished the walk back to the Burrow in silence, still holding hands till the door and then pulled apart with no repercussions. Harry went to Ron’s attic bedroom and Ginny to hers and they never spoke about _them_ again.

“Proposing?” Harry asked a year later, stunned that his two best friends were considering such a drastic change in status. “To Hermione? You?”

“Well, I bloody well hope that no one else has,” Ron joked. “We’ve only been together a year, I’d hate to think I’ve bored her into someone else’s arms already.”

Harry looked up from the ring that Ron had presented him with. He knew nothing of rings but it looked perfectly acceptable, something that might have been in a catalogue only… there was something so un-personal about it. Like Ron might have pointed at random, thrown a magazine to the floor and let gravity chose the ring by whatever picture was shown.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, confused.

They’d never talked about marriage and they talked to Harry about everything. _Everything_. He knew more about their sex lives than he’d ever been curious about and no amount of making faces or walking out of the room seemed to shelter him from the oversharing.

“About Hermione?” Ron asked and although that wasn’t what Harry had meant he nodded anyway. “Of course, I love her. Why? Are you going to tell me that you don’t like her or something?”

And although he was still joking there was a hint of concern in his eyes, like he thought there might be something he was missing.

“Not like Hermione? Funny you are.” Harry answered, shutting the velvet box with a snap and handing it back to Ron. “No, I just mean, seems a bit sudden, doesn’t it?”

“See that’s what I thought mum might say,” Ron said. He opened the ring and began staring at it again. “Only every time I see her she’s asking when I’m going to propose, make the relationship _proper_.” He closed the box again. “Anyway, I wanted to know if I could store it in here. Hermione’s bound to come across it if I leave it in our room.”

“Course,” Harry said and without asking Ron turned to Harry’s top drawer and tossed it in at random, shutting it just as quickly. His actions were so careless he seemed almost in a hurry to get rid of it. “When did you get it anyway?”

Ron blinked at him as if he’d already forgotten.

“The ring?”

Harry’d been with him almost all day. Their morning meeting, lunch with Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, afternoon patrols, case write-ups.

“Oh, that,” Ron said, “While we were waiting for you I thought I might ask Ginny to help me pick out something for Hermione’s birthday. Mum showed up and just insisted that I start looking at rings, have an idea of how much I needed to save up. Then the owner came over and just started gushing because his was some of the merchandise we found in the bust last spring. Remember? That muggle wearhouse we just thought was going to be counterfeiting?”

Harry nodded.

“Anyway, I told him I was just there to get a necklace or something and that I didn’t have the money for it, just starting to look and he just insisted on making it work. Never did get anything for her birthday.” He frowned and then seemed to come from his senses and pulled something else out of the bag he’d produced the ring from. “That’s not even why I came in here, did you see Quidditch Weekly? Ginny’s made the front page!”

Ron fell onto the bed beside Harry, stomach first, and let out a long, satisfied groan.

“Worth it?” Harry asked, peering over at Ron.

“Thank God,” Ron sighed, “If I had to spend one more night cramped up in a tiny bed with the two of you I very well might have reconsidered this.”

“You would have done no such thing,” Hermione’s bossy voice sounded from the doorway. “There’s a perfectly good couch in the living room we would be more than happy to kick you to.”

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry before turning to her. “Come on then, test out the new mattress.”

“Couldn’t have even put sheets on?” Hermione asked with a sigh but obediently toed off her shoes and seconds later Harry heard her drop down on Ron’s other side. She let out a moan that Harry knew all too well.

“See?” Ron asked of her and Harry could just see her nodding her head.

Ron rolled over, putting his arms behind his head. “I can’t believe it took two whole months for the extension charms to get approved. For one room! We’re the heroes of the wizarding world. I know permits approved Neville’s garden shed in less than a week.”

“Disgraced former heroes of the wizarding world,” Hermione corrected him.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot how much of a disappointment we were.” Ron said, not sounding too sorry about it.

“Such a disappointment,” Harry seconded, raising his head and then scooting closer to Ron.

Hermione, it seemed, had the same idea for they wound up in their usual formation, either cuddled to Ron’s side, faces so close they could kiss if they tilted their heads just right.

“We didn’t get a giant bed just so I could still be so cramped in the middle,” Ron complained even as he pulled Hermione closer to him.

“You might not’ve,” Harry said, grinning up at him. Ron rolled his eyes and then reached down to fluff the top of Harry’s head. “Alright then, I promise to sleep as far away as I can, never cuddle again.”

Hermione giggled and Ron couldn’t resist smiling fondly at him. “You may be the chosen one but you’re a terrible liar.”

“Disgraced chosen one,” Harry couldn’t help but clarifying.

“At least you’re in good company,” Hermione chimed in.

Harry reached over, pushing back her hair so his thumb could stroke her cheek. “The best.”

She closed her eyes, looking peaceful.

“Don’t go falling asleep now,” Ron warned, “We’ve still got Ginny’s birthday and we promised mum we’d help decorate.”

“You promised your mum,” Hermione argued, snuggling even closer. “ _We_ aren’t expected for a couple of hours yet.”

“Yes, and this bed needs testing,” Harry said and Hermione’s eyes shot open in delight.

Ron groaned, tugging on Harry’s hair that he’d been idly stroking. “Mum might actually kill me if we’re late _again_.”

Somehow he didn’t seem to protest much after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got one more chapter planned out at the moment but your thoughts and wishes could motivate more! Thank you to everyone who's been commenting and loving this. Your support and kindness means more than you know.


	6. doubting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by this comment from Kitkatsuna. ](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/277805563)

David found her in his study, looking at his globe intently. The three of them had come over for dinner that Thursday night and while Ron had been called out for a case before pudding had even been served, Hermione and Harry had stayed, telling them about how a poorly cast _gemino_ charm had wreaked havoc on the Hogwarts Express coming home for the holiday. It had been a rather amusing tale, nice to hear a story about their work that didn’t involve someone’s life at risk. 

“Planning a trip?” he asked.

She jumped, pulling her wand and pointing it at him. “Sorry,” she said, “Habit.”

He didn’t say anything, turning on the light switch and sitting down behind his desk. Hermione had been in good spirits all evening but something had changed when talk of work ended and the wedding binder had come out. David hadn’t even noticed her excusing herself from the room until he’d suddenly looked over and found her missing, Helen prattling on to Harry about some wedding venue horror she’d seen on the telly.

“We’re thinking about taking some time off of work after the wedding, going traveling,” Hermione explained, giving the globe another turn. “Taking gap years is very common in the wizarding world, doing a whole world tour in fact. Of course, no one from our year did.”

“You lot seemed pretty occupied,” David noted.

“Well, we had that whole pesky Voldemort thing,” Hermione said casually, letting out a little laugh.

She removed her hand and sat down in the chair before his desk, taking the place where they’d often held after dinner chats about homework and school. But he couldn’t remember a time since they’d come home that he and his daughter had even been alone together.

“Have you thought about South America?” he asked her. “Your mother and I went for a dental conference a few years ago, plenty of hiking.”

Hermione smiled, “The boys would like that. Mind, they never stop to read the placards. They say it takes too long.”

“Is Harry coming along with you?” he asked, a little surprised. “On your honeymoon?”

“Oh,” Hermione replied her face fell suddenly. “I suppose not.”

She pondered it for a moment and then said, “We’ve always taken our holidays with Harry, it’s odd to plan a trip without him.”

Again she wore the pensive look he’d come across her wearing.

“Is everything alright?” he asked of her.

“What’s it like?” She asked quietly, “being married?”

“Ah,” David smiled, fearful that she was going to ask a question not so easily answered. “It’s wonderful. Building a life with someone. Knowing you can rely on them whenever you need them. Living with your best friend. Being able to spend every weekend together. Though I suppose you don’t have that to look forward to.”

Hermione blushed but didn’t say anything. She’d tried being evasive about where she was living, but it didn’t take much to sort out that her plan to move in with Ron and Harry after she graduated Hogwarts wasn’t a temporary move while she ‘looked for a flat’.

And although she was smiling David had the distinct feeling that her worries hadn’t been resolved. “What are you afraid of?”

“I suppose that everything’ll change. The way things are now, they’re good. What if we’re risking it and we don’t even know?”

He stared at her patiently.

“I love Ron, I know that I love him and that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with him. I’ve known that for a long time, longer than we’ve been dating even. From the moment they rescued me from that troll I knew what we had was special and that they would be in my life for forever.”

He hadn’t seen her so passionate in a long time and he had to hide a smile.

“Then what is it Hermione?” he asked quietly. “If it’s not Ron and it’s not being with him that scares you, what is it that has you doubting?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, her eyes begging him for a simple answer. “I’m sure about Ron, about our lives. I just—I wish I didn’t feel like an imposter playing the part of a bride.”

She looked upset with herself and curtained her hair around her face. For a moment he was worried she was crying but when she tucked her hair behind one ear there were no tears on her face but rather a disappointed look.

“Hermione,” he said softly, “If you’re not sure-“

“I’m sure,” she said, suddenly fierce. “I love him.”

“I didn’t mean Ron,” he went on patiently. She blushed, looking frustrated with herself once more. “What does he have to say about this?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “I don’t how to say it without breaking his heart. And even if he agreed to push it back, the whole thing’s been planned around us. You and mum have been so understanding, forgiven me for something that I shouldn’t’ve been forgiven for. And mum and Molly have bonded, watching them both become friends—how can I take that from them?”

“They’re adults, Hermione, they’ll understand.”

“It’s not just them either. I can’t go a week without making the press and frankly them speculating about whether or not I’m going to try and cover up the scar on my throat is a lot better then the other rumors they’re always peddling about us. After everything we’ve been through, people need a happy story.”

“But do you want it?”

He hesitated in asking and for this very reason. Instantly Hermione plastered a smile on her face and all doubt was gone. “Of course I want Ron, I love him. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. I know all this stress has been getting to me but what kind of question is that?”

David opened his mouth to defend himself, clarify his question, but at that moment, Harry, who’d been abandoned in the kitchen, rapped his knuckles against the doorframe.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the man said sheepishly. “Hermione, I’m going to head home. Unless you’d like me to wait for you?”

Instantly Hermione was on her feet. It seemed she couldn’t get away from the conversation fast enough. “I’m ready.”

Beside him, Hermione let out a deafening scream as Ron, twenty feet off the ground, kicked the red ball David had been certain would escape him. And she wasn’t alone. The small crowd of young adults that were watching beside them let out hoops and hollers and then, just as they’d done a dozen times already, burst into a song that sounded more garbled with each round.

“And that’s why Gryffindors all sing, Weasley is our King!”

At the goalposts, Ron pumped his fist in the air, clearly enjoying the attention.

“And you said your enemy came up with this song?” David asked, bending down to shout in Hermione’s ear.

She giggled and shook her head. “No, Malfoy came up with these dreadful lyrics, but we adapted them into something better.”

Ginny, her face red and drinking from a bottle tore away from the young man she’d been chatting with and added. “Oh, those were awful. _Born in a bin_? We were born in a pigpen, thank you very much.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ginny passed her a poorly disguised bottle wrapped in a paper sack. Hermione accepted it and, when it was halfway to her lips, looked suddenly at her father in worry.

“Ah, hand it over,” he said. It’d been years since he’d played pick up matches with his mates and knew that drinking was apart of the tradition. Hermione grinned, taking a swig and grimacing before handing it to him.

“Fire whiskey,” Hermione explained, “I only drink it to keep warm of course.”

“Of course,” he said with mock seriousness, taking his own drink. She hadn’t been lying. As soon as the liquid hit his tongue he could feel a warming sensation spreading throughout him. It was rather like drinking a scalding cup of tea only without the physical damage.

“He’s already seen the snitch you know,” Ginny said to Hermione in a voice loud enough to carry to Harry who was drifting by. “I don’t know why he bothers.”

“Too busy staring at the keeper no doubt,” Hermione quipped.

“How dare you,” Harry said, giving up the presence he’d been casually flying by and turning back to them. “I’ll have you know that I’m taking this game very seriously.”

“Oi Potter!” Ron shouted, “Are you going to catch the snitch or spend the entire match chatting up our girl? At this rate, my bits are going to freeze off!”

He made eyes with David and blushed a handsome red. “With all due respect Mr. Granger!”

David chortled as all three of them blushed and Harry made a hasty escape.

“What’d you think?” Ron asked, stopping just in front of them and hopping off of his broom.

“Brilliant,” David said, enthused. “Hermione always made it seem so boring-”

“Dad!” 

“-but what a sport.”

“I never said quidditch was boring,” Hermione protested but David made eye contact with Ron and they both resisted rolling their eyes. “I was just explaining the rules to you.”

Harry, who’d been taking a victory lap, finally caught up with them, zooming towards them at top speed and only stopping at the last moment to roll off his broom in a very fanciful way.

“And you!” he said proudly to Harry. “That was quite a fright you gave us.”

“Wronski Feint,” Harry explained, looking pleased with himself.

“Not many people can do it,”Hermione said proudly. “Not without crashing into the ground at least.”

They all turned their eyes towards the poor sap who was just now peeling himself from the grass, covered in mud.

“Ah, he’ll be alright,” Ron said, putting his arm around Harry. “Should have known better than to face off with the youngest seeker in a century."

Ginny, who’d been in discussion with another team member, caught up with them. “I know you’re the hero of the wizarding world and all, but should be a crime that you didn’t go professional.”

“I know,” Ron sounded sorry, “It’s a bloody shame really.”

“Not you,” Ginny said, turning up her nose at her bother. “Expect, was that last flip intentional?” Ron shrugged modestly. “Really? Can you show me, whenever I try my right hand-“

The pair split off from the group, taking Harry with them to borrow his broom. Hermione turned towards her father. “We usually go for drinks after, but if you’d like we could grab something to eat?”

“I’ve had a lovely time, but your mother is expecting me.”

Hermione’s grin fell and David hated himself for it. He put an encouraging arm around her shoulder. “She’ll come around, she just needs some time.”

“I know,” Hermione said softly, blinking rapidly. “I’d just hoped-“

“Molly stopped by this week,” David said hopefully. “They had tea.”

“Really?” Hermione looked surprised. “Molly didn’t say anything.”

David nodded, leaving out the fact that part of the reason for her visit had been to extend an invitation to the elder Weasley’s upcoming anniversary party. Something Helen had been fretting over whether or not to attend ever since.

“She loves you,” David assured her, “Very much. It’s just difficult to understand-“

“How someone can’t be satisfied with only one man,” Hermione said bitingly, bringing up again the terrible row that had ensued all those months ago.

“That her daughter is an adult and her decisions are her own.” David corrected sternly. Hermione nodded and David squeezed the arm he still had around her. “It’s difficult, isn’t it? Realizing your parents are people and still have growing up to do.”

“Terribly,” Hermione agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter that is hosted in this story. If you'd like to pruse past comments feel free to continue otherwise please click the "[next work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777135)" button to continue reading.
> 
> [Explanation as to why the work was divided up can be found here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442983/chapters/54249961)


	7. know

[Full chapter can be found here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696351)

[Explanation for why the chapter moved can be found here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442983/chapters/54249961)


	8. not forgotten, not forgiven

[Full chapter can be found here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696534)

[Explanation as to why the chapter moved can be found here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442983/chapters/54249961)


	9. touch

[Full chapter can be found here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696738)


	10. misconceptions

[Full chapter can be found here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696783)

[Explanation as to why the chapter moved can be found here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442983/chapters/54249961)


	11. five years later

[Full chapter can be found here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696846)


	12. change

[Full chapter can be found here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696876)


	13. ADMINISTRATIVE NOTE please read

In January I set out to write 366,000 words this year. I challenged to write whatever was of interest, even if it didn’t lead something bigger. In late January, perhaps even more difficult, I challenged myself to publish that work once I felt the story was complete rather than letting it sit in my drafts gathering dust.

“together or not at all” was the start of me fulfilling that challenge and what started as a one-shot has evolved into a world I love writing in. I haven’t planned it out. Most of what you see was written and published on the same day. But now, as I’m starting to widen my horizons of what this little AU can be I’m regretting one thing….putting it into a chaptered story.

This isn’t being written in a linear fashion and before the story gets so convoluted that you’ve no idea how old or what has happened before, the format needs to be changed.

Moving forward chapters will be published primarily as individual one-shots. In doing this both to provide clarity as well as giving myself the flexibility to write what’s interesting and slotting it in sequential order. The first six chapters will remain under this story and the latter half will be moved to individual one-shots. I will be keeping the chapters as not to lose the thoughtful and insightful comments while still linking to the new home of the text. 

I want to thank each and every one of you who has taken the time to comment. Your participation has meant the world to me and I want to thank you for sticking with me as I change to this new format.

I want to thank you all for your support and kindness and I hope you enjoy the story what comes next.

[Today’s chapter, _how every wedding should go_ , can be found here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22698619)

PS: I'm very very very sorry for anyone who's subscribed to me and received a million notifications and only _one_ new chapter. There was never going to be a good time to do this. I can promise you lots more fluff and our three favorite idiots in love coming soon. <3


End file.
